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Pioneer 

Women of 
Wyoming 




JOHNSON 



THE 



Pioneer Women 

of Wyoming, 

AN ADDRESS BEFORE THE WYOMING 

VALLEY CHAPTER, 

D. A. R., 

By FREDERICK C.JOHNSON, M. D. 



*•» fj 



Member of the Wyoming Historical Society, New England Genealogical 

Society, Moravian Historical Society, Minisink 

Valley Historical Society, etc. 



WILKES-BARRE, PA., 
190J, 






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awst 



The Pioneer Women of Wyoming. 



The part woman plays in the establishing of a new set- 
tlement is not much dwelt upon by the historian. This fact 
does not imply that her work is unappreciated, but being 
domestic in character it does not often furnish material for 
the chronicler. 

There is no field where woman's share of labor and 
suffering has been greater than in the pioneer community, 
and this has been pre-eminently true of Wyoming. She has 
borne the burden and heat of the day as bravely and uncom- 
plainingly as ever her husband did, and there have even 
been times when she has shouldered the musket and wielded 
the woodman's ax. She has gone into an almost pathless 
wilderness infested with cruel savages, she has helped estab- 
lish a home there, children have come to gladden her life 
and she has seen happy days there even in the forest. 

Of her devotion to her family, of her self-sacrifice, of 
her undaunted courage, yes, of her heroism, we cannot say 
too much. 

Women have seen husbands and sons murdered before 
their very eyes, have had their little children torn from their 
arms and carried away, their homes and possessions given to 
the flames and some of these pioneer mothers of Wyoming 
have themselves been tortured and killed or carried into a 
captivity worse than death. 

Not only have they suffered every hardship at the hands 
of blood-thirsty barbarians, but they and their little ones 
have been driven from their homes again and again by foes 
of their own race and blood, almost as cruel as the savages 
themselves. Yet the pioneer mother of Wyoming was will- 
ing to undergo all these privations and many more that she 
might lend her help in building up a home for those depend- 
ent on her, who were dearer to her than her own life. 



4 
FIRST MASSACRE. 

The women of Connecticut were early in Wyoming to 
share the perils and privations with their husbands and to 
do their part in making a home in a wilderness which was 
infested with wild animals and with even more savage 
human foes. You all remember that the first attempt at set- 
tlement was made in 1762, the Wyoming region being 
claimed by the Susquehanna Company under Connecticut. 
No women so far as I know accompanied these first settlers, 
who in that year went to Wyoming from Connecticut and 
in the fertile flat lands along the Susquehanna, which re- 
quired not the woodman's ax, planted their crops. In the 
following spring they returned with the purpose of making 
permanent settlement. Some twenty families brought with 
them all their farming utensils and household possessions, 
their wives and children as well. Thus in 1763 did our 
pioneer mothers first see this fair valley, though it would 
have been better if their advent had taken place a few years 
later, for hardly had their crops been gathered than the 
infant settlement was laid waste by the savages. Unpre- 
pared for resistance, about twenty men fell and were scalped. 
Even the women did not escape the cruelty of the savages. 



Parshall Terry's narrative gives us the names of two of 
the women who were killed : Mrs. Daniel Baldwin and 
Zuriah Whitney. The atrocity of the savages is learned 
from the following, appearing in the Pennsylvania Gazette 
for November, 1763: 

"Our party under Captain Clayton has returned from 
Wyoming, where they met with no Indians, but found the 
New Englanders who had been killed and scalped a day or 
two before they got there. They buried the dead, nine men 
and a woman, who had been most cruelly butchered ; the 
woman was roasted and had two hinges in her hands, sup- 
posed to be put in red hot and several of the men had awls 
thrust into their eyes, and spears, arrows and pitchforks 



5 

sticking in their bodies. They burnt what houses the In- 
dians had left and destroyed a quantity of Indian corn. The 
enemy's tracks were up the river." 

The attack was a surprise, the New Englanders having 
found no savages in the valley, although Teedyuscung was 
living there quietly with a few of his people. It has been 
claimed by some that the destruction of the settlement was at 
the instigation of the Pennsylvania authorities, but it is now 
certain, as Dr. Egle has shown, that "the infamous transac- 
tion was conceived and carried out by those infernal savages 
from New York, the Cayugas and Oneidas," who had 
repudiated the sale of Wyoming to Connecticut in 1754 and 
were now carrying out their threats of vengeance upon the 
"intruders." It is true that Governor Hamilton of Penn- 
sylvania had previously issued proclamations warning the 
Connecticut people not to incur the displeasure of Pennsyl- 
vania and the Indians by taking possession of the Wyoming 
lands, but there is nothing to indicate that the Pennsylvania 
authorities had the slightest connection with this first mass- 
acre of Wyoming. 

Immediately after the fearful blow was struck, the 
women and children joined in wild flight to the mountains. 
As Charles Miner says, "language cannot describe the suf- 
ferings of the fugitives as they traversed the wilderness, 
destitute of food or clothing, on their way to their former 
homes." 

PERMANENT OCCUPANCY. 

So complete was the destruction of the settlement in 
1763, that six years elapsed before a further attempt at 
occupying Wyoming was made. Meanwhile the Indians, 
who had years before sold the Wyoming lands to Connecti- 
cut, repudiated the sale of 1754 and at a council held at Fort 
Stanwix, New York, in 1768, sold the disputed region to 
Pennsylvania. And now commenced an internecine strug- 
gle between Pennsylvania and Connecticut, which was 
waged throughout the rest of the century, and which was 
never interrupted, except during the Revolutionary war, 



when by common consent both parties suspended their local 
strife and joined in a common defense against the growing 
oppressions of Great Britain. 

The year 1769 marked the next attempt at the settle- 
ment of Wyoming and the pioneer mothers were not left 
behind. The first Connecticut settlers — 40 in number — 
arrived in the dead of winter, the month of February. They 
had been provided by the Susquehanna Company with land 
and farming utensils, they agreeing to defend the valley 
against the claimants under Pennsylvania. They were led 
by Col. Zebulon Butler, a veteran of the French and Indian 
wars. But the Pennsylvania claimants were ahead of them, 
having arrived the month previous. 

Adopting tactics similar to those of Connecticut, the 
Pennsylvania proprietaries had executed a lease of certain 
lands in Wyoming Valley to Stewart, Ogden and Jennings 
for seven years, upon condition that they should establish an 
Indian trading house there and defend the valley from 
encroachment. I will not dwell upon the conflicts between 
the rival claimants during this first year of the settlement, 
other than to say that the Connecticut people were three 
times expelled Each time they returned, but finally they 
surrendered ai id agreed to withdraw from the valley. I 
quote from Miner: 

"Taking up their melancholy march, men, their wives 
and little ones, with such of their flocks and herds as could 
be collected, with aching hearts took leave of the fair plains 
of Wyoming." 

During the second and third years of the settlement 
hostilities were carried on with great vigor. The Connecti- 
cut people were expelled again and again, only to 
return when least expected, and some lives were lost 
on both sides. The valor and persistency of the 
Connecticut people were rewarded, and by September, I77 1 * 
the Proprietary Government had to admit that it was beaten. 
Connecticut now became master of the situation, but only 
for a time. It was only a truce, for while the Connecticut 
people had obtained possession of the valley they could not 



hope to retain it long, for Connecticut was making a mild 
disavowal to Pennsylvania of her responsibility for any 
hostile measures of the Susquehanna Company. 

Now that the war — called the First Pennamite War — 
was believed to be over, and the Connecticut settlers were 
confident Pennsylvania would not renew the attack, prepara- 
tions were made for a permanent settlement. 

During the two years that followed Connecticut receded 
from her vacillating policy in regard to the Wyoming settle- 
ment, to the extent that she officially recognized the settle- 
ment and formally established jurisdiction — certainly a great 
advantage for the settlers who had fought so hard for pos- 
session during the First Pennamite War. 

"The stern alarms of war having been succeeded by the 
sweet songs of peace," as Miner so gracefully puts it, the 
brave pioneer woman again made her appearance in the 
Susquehanna settlement. Up to 1772 there were never more 
than one hundred and thirty men in Wyoming at any one 
time and in May of that year there were only half a dozen 
women in Wilkes-Barre. These were: Mrs. James Mc- 
Clure, Mrs. Bennett, Mrs. Jabez Sill, Mrs. Thomas Bennett, 
Mrs. Hickman, Mrs. Dr. Joseph Sprague, and the latter's 
daughter, afterwards Mrs. Phoebe Young. 

Pioneer life was fraught with many perils and owing 
to the danger from the Indians, the settlers sought the 
shelter of the rude forts. 

Let us see how they lived at Wilkes-Barre. The stock- 
ade was constructed of a wall of upright timbers set in the 
ground side by side. 

FIRST WOMAN PHYSICIAN. 

All around in the inside, against the wall of upright 
logs, were one-story huts. Mrs. Dr. Joseph Sprague kept 
boarders, but she must have been hard pressed for supplies 
in that early day. There was no mill nearer than the Dela- 
ware and it was necessary to use corn meal as a chief article 
of diet. This was made in a mortar, that is, a stump 
hollowed out by burning, and operated by a pestle attached 



to a spring pole. In this could be made a rude flour of corn, 
or wheat, or rye. Whether the labor of operating this primi- 
tive device fell on the men or the women, history does not 
tell. Sometimes Mrs. Sprague's husband (who was the first 
physician in the young settlement,) would saddle his horse 
and go by the bridle-path to the mill on the Delaware and 
bring back some wheat flour, which was held in great store 
and devoted to the making of dainties for a wedding or 
other gala occasion. On such trips he would also bring back 
spices, rum and other articles which helped make merry 
when opporunity offered or occasion required. Mrs. 
Sprague's table was well supplied with vension and shad, but 
salt was scarce. There were some friendly Indians in the 
valley, converts of the Moravian missionaries, and they sup- 
plied the fort with game. Her table and chairs and beds 
were all of home construction, for as yet little or no furniture 
had been taken into the settlement. Mrs. Sprague's house, 
small at best, was the largest in the stockade. The little 
houses of Captain Zebulon Butler and Col. Nathan Denison, 
both young men, adjoined one another. Next was the store 
of Matthias Hollenback, then a young man of twenty, who 
had brought a small stock of goods from Lancaster and who 
was destined to become an important factor in developing 
the commerce of the Susquehanna River. 

The Wilkes-Barre Advertiser, of April 15, 1814, notes 
that Mrs. Eunice Sprague died on the 12th, aged 82 years, 
but beyond the mere statement that she was one of the first 
settlers of this place, gives no particulars as to her interest- 
ing career. Her maiden name was Eunice Chapman, and 
she was a native of Colchester, Conn. Dr. Hollister thus 
describes her in his history: "She was a worthy old lady, 
prompt, cheerful and successful, and at this time (1785) the 
sole accoucheur in all the wide domain now embraced by 
Luzerne, Lackawanna and Wyoming Counties. Although 
of great age, her obstetrical practice as late as 1810 surpassed 
that of any physician in this portion of Pennsylvania. For 
attending a confinement case, no matter how distant the 
journey, how long or fatiguing the detention, this sturdy 



9 

and faithful woman invariably charged one dollar for ser- 
vices rendered, although a larger fee was never refused if 
any one was able or rash enough to offer it." 

By an earlier marriage at Sharon, N. Y., Mrs. Sprague 
was the mother of Phoebe Poyner Young. The latter was 
one of the fugitives from the massacre of Wyoming, and 
was one of a party of seven women and children who escaped 
down the river to Harrisburg in a canoe. Mrs. Young died 
in 1830 at the age of 89 years. Her recollections were 
largely used by the earlier historians of Wyoming Valley. 

I quote from a newspaper article written a few years 
ago by the late Wesley Johnson : 

"Mrs. Sprague was in all probability the first female doc- 
tor to practice medicine in these parts. I do not myself 
remember her, but often when I was a small boy, heard the 
old people speak of 'Granny Sprague' as a successful practi- 
tioner of midwifery and of the healing art among children. 
Mrs. Dr. Sprague's residence and office, which I well 
remember, was a one-story log house on the corner of Main 
and Union streets, then known as Granny Sprague's corner, 
where the Kesler block now stands. The old log house was 
demolished long years ago, but the cellar was plainly to be 
seen up to the time of erecting the present block of brick- 
buildings. Mrs. Sprague was the mother of 'Aunt Young,' 
who lived in a small one-story frame house on Canal street, 
still standing, a short distance below Union street, who used 
to tell us boys how she often listened to the cry of wild cats 
and wolves in the swamp in front of her place, about where 
the line of several railroads pass up the valley." 

AN EARTHLY PARADISE. 

Miner says that 1772 was "a transition yr-ar, full of un- 
defined pleasure flowing from the newness and freshness of 
the scene, a comparative sense of security, the exultation of 
having come off victorious, and the influx from Connecticut, 
when the beautiful valley must be shown to the new come 
wives and daughters who had been told so much of its loveli- 



IO 

ness. The year passed without civil suit or crime and may 
be considered as a season of almost unalloyed happiness." 

Amid such joyous scenes what more natural than that 
our pioneer mothers should love and be loved. The first to 
require the services of the new pastor who had come to 
Wilkes-Barre, was Miss Betsey Sill. The happy groom 
was Nathan Denison, a young man who was destined to play 
an important part in the settlement. 

But the gladness and plenty in 1772 was to be followed 
by scarceness and sorrow in the succeeding year. The win- 
ter (of 1773) had made sorry inroads into the supply of 
provisions and in February men had to cross the mountains, 
fifty miles, to the Delaware for supplies. There were only 
'rude roads and no bridges and the sufferings of those who 
had volunteered for the journey were intense. 

The straitened housewife welcomed the arrival of 
spring, for she could abundantly supply her table with shad 
when the fishing season came. The spring brought food, 
but with it came a pestilence that filled the homes of some of 
the pioneer mothers of Wyoming with bitter anguish. Col- 
onel Zebulon Butler lost his wife and his little son. They 
were both laid to rest on the Old Redoubt hill. This was 
his first wife, Miss Anna Lord of Lyme, Conn., whom he had 
married in 1760. 

Who can tell the joy the women of the settlement must 
have experienced when in 1773 a grist mill was erected. Up 
to this time they had been restricted to the use of home-made 
flour and meal, ground from wheat or rye or corn in primi- 
tive mortars. The only milled flour they had was laborious- 
ly brought over from the settlement on the Delaware. The 
enterprising settler to whom the women owed so much was 
Nathan Chapman, who built a mill at the mouth of Mill 
Creek. The crude machinery was brought up the river in 
one of Mr. Hollenback's boats. Up to this time the women 
had no furniture except that which was chopped out of tim- 
ber. The habitations were constructed of logs, for there was 
as yet no lumber in the settlement. But now a saw mill was 
erected and henceforth the good housewife could have tables 



II 

and shelves, floors and many other things which her pioneer 
heart yearned for. The saw mill was erected on Mill Creek, 
just below Chapman's mill and it was the first saw mill whose 
hum had ever been heard on the upper Susquehanna. This 
was in the fall of 1773. 

A TORY ROMANCE. 

This old Chapman mill had a little romance that entitles 
it to a place in a consideration of the pioneer women of 
Wyoming. Chapman sold his mill property to one Adonijah 
Stanbury, a Delaware man, whose course was such as to 
create suspicion that he was no friend to the Connecticut 
claimants, in short that he was an enemy in disguise. Our 
forefathers had the faculty of making things too hot for 
Tory suspects and they accordingly resorted to all sorts of 
annoyances to get rid of him. 

At this juncture a young man, true to the Connecticut 
interest, fell in love with Stanbury's daughter, married her 
and bought the mill, the only one in Wyoming, from his 
father-in-law, who then made everybody happy by leaving 
the settlement. 

In this year, 1773, the women of the little colony had an 
accession to their number in the person of the wife of the 
minister, Rev. Jacob Johnson. Her husband had come on 
the ground the year previous and in August, 1773, he was 
formally invited by the Wilkes-Barre settlers to locate among 
them as a preacher of the gospel. He came from Groton, 
Conn., his wife being Mary Giddings, who was of the same 
family as J. R. Giddings, the noted anti-slavery congress- 
man. He was accompanied from Connecticut by his daugh- 
ter, Lydia, who became the second wife of Col. Zebulon 
Butler. 

Not only did the settlers provide for a gospel ministry, 
but the pioneer mothers were not compelled to see their chil- 
dren, even on this distant frontier, grow up in ignorance, for 
free schools were established, to be maintained at the public 
expense. As Miner says : "These votes, thus early in the 
settlement, passed in the midst of poverty and dangers, may 



12 

be referred to by the descendants of these pilgrim fathers, 
[and I will add pilgrim mothers] with honest pride. They 
will remain to all enduring time monuments of religious zeal, 
and their earnest desire to advance the intellectual and moral 
conditions of their children." 

Two years of repose, (1772-1773) says Miner, present- 
ed no event more exciting than the ordinary occurrences of 
peace, domestic prosperity, unalloyed joy and gladness. 
Early in 1774 Connecticut assumed jurisdiction and Wyo- 
ming now became the town of Westmoreland, attached to the 
County of Litchfield, Conn. Advocates of law and order 
every one of them, this friendly action of the mother state 
filled them with enthusiasm. It stamped all their former 
claims as legal and right and they looked forward to a secure 
and happy future. 

Miner says the state of pleasurable excitement of this 
period tinges the whole with romance. Contrasted with the 
ills that awaited them the lines of Gray recur : 

44 Fair laughs the morn, and the soft zephyr blows, 
While proudly rowing o'er the azure realm, 

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes. 
Youth on the prow and Pleasure at the helm, 

Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, 

That hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey." 

The year 1775 witnessed a continuance of prosperity. 
The housewife was no longer handicapped by the pioneer 
methods of earlier days. Her husband, thanks to his in- 
dustry and a prolific virgin soil, was able to furnish an 
abundance of food and there was plenty of wool which she 
might spin and weave into garments, not very ornamental, 
but strong and serviceable, sufficient for her family's needs. 
Cattle and sheep grazed on the hillsides and there was plenty 
of milk, butter, cheese, beef and mutton. Her children now 
had schools provided and on Sunday — a strictly Puritan Sab- 
bath, — she and her husband and little ones could attend the 
preaching services. But as yet there were prowling savages 
on the mountains and the men must perforce carry their fire- 
arms, whenever they ventured away from home. 



13 

The rigid Puritanism of that early day is well shown by 
the fact that a pioneer woman, Mary Pritchard, is recorded 
on the court dockets, as having been taken before a magis- 
trate (1782) and compelled to pay a fine of 5 shillings for 
the offense of going unnecessarily from her domicile on the 
Lord's Day. Verily the times have changed. 

The strictness of the New England Sabbath was the 
subject of considerable satire elsewhere. In an old poem it 
was said that God had thought one day in seven sufficient 
for rest, but in New England men had improved on this and 
set apart a day and a half : 

" And let it be enacted further still, 
That all our people strict obey our will ; 
Five days and half shall men and women too 
Attend their business and their mirth pursue. 
But after that no man without a fine 
Shall walk the streets or at a tavern dine. 
One day and a half 'tis requisite to rest 
From toilsome labor and a tempting feast. 
No barber, foreign or domestic bred, 
Shall e'er presume to dress a lady's head ; 
No shop shall spare, half the preceding day, 
A yard of riband or an ounce of tea. 
Henceforth let none, on peril of their lives, 
Attempt a journey or embrace their wives " 

OUTBREAK OF THE REVOLUTION. 

The outbreak of the Revolution was the signal for a 
patriotic response on the part of the settlers at Wyoming and 
in town meeting. It was voted to propose a truce with the 
Pennsylvania claimants, that both sides might join in the 
common defense of their country. We can rest assured that 
the pioneer women of Wyoming had a part in urging this 
patriotic step and in joining their husbands in preparations 
for war against the oppression of the mother country. 

In 1775 the women of Wyoming had their attention 
drawn from their own troubles to the distress of other 
women less fortunate than themselves. The olive branch 
which the Connecticut settlers had offered to the Pennsyl- 
vania claimants, in order that both might join for the defense 
of their common liberty, resulted to a large extent in a sus- 



u 

pension of hostilities, but did not do so entirely. A proprie- 
tary expedition under Plunkett had been sent to destroy the 
settlement of Connecticut people on the West Branch. The 
expedition accomplished all that was hoped. The buildings 
were burned, the spoils divided among the captors, the men 
imprisoned at Sunbury jail, while the women and children 
made their way through the forest as best they could to the 
nearest settlement, which was Wyoming. And there the 
fugitives received that succor of which they so much stood in 
need. The hospitality of the women of Wyoming was un- 
stinted and these poor creatures, whose homes were destroy- 
ed and husbands imprisoned, had their sufferings mitigated 
in a manner that brought great cheer to their aching hearts. 

Plukett next turned his attention toward the North 
Branch and in the dead of winter sent an expedition to sub- 
due Wyoming. Congress sought by a resolution to put a 
stop to the movement, as the common safety was imperiled, 
but Plunkett was so flushed by his victory on the West 
Branch that he could not be dissuaded from advancing. It 
need only be said that the Wyoming settlers were ready for 
him, and having entrenched themselves three hundred strong 
in the rocks of the Nanticoke Gap, Plunkett's expedition was 
ignominiously defeated and driven back down the river in 
utter confusion with loss of life on both sides. 

Just how many were widowed or orphaned by this en- 
gagement is not recorded, but there were several widows 
who were left in such straightened circumstances that funds 
had to be raised by public subscription for their assistance. 
These were the widows Baker, Franklin and Ensign. There 
may have been others whose circumstances were such that 
they would not require public aid. Miner thinks our people 
had six or eight killed and thrice that many wounded. The 
sorrow in the homes of the women of Wyoming, thus caused 
by this heartless invasion in the interest of the Pennsylvania 
land owners, can be better imagined than described. 



We, who enjoy the blessings of immunity from the 
small-pox through so simple a measure as vaccination, can 



15 

have little conception of the horror of the situation when 
that dreaded malady became epidemic in the Wyoming set- 
tlement, as it did in the summer of 1777. The women had to 
fight the disease at a disadvantage, being deprived of the 
assistance of their husbands and sons, who were away in the 
Revolutionary service. A citizen of the valley, Jeremiah 
Ross, had become exposed to the disease in Philadelphia and 
his sickness, after his return to Wilkes-Barre, was speedily 
fatal. From this one case the disease became epidemic and 
pesthouses were established, half a mile from traveled roads. 
To these houses all who were to be inoculated had to repair 
and remain there until recovery. To what extent the dis- 
order prevailed there is no way of knowing, though the 
prompt measures employed and vigorously enforced pre- 
vented its serious spread. 



WYOMING A DEFENSELESS OUTPOST. 

The year of 1777 closed with nearly all the able bodied 
men of Wyoming away in the public service. The re- 
mainder, in dread of the savages, were building stockades, 
and this without compensation. The aged men were formed 
into companies. Small-pox was abroad. Connecticut had 
made a levy of £2,000. A gloomy outlook indeed. Yet at 
a town meeting a measure was adopted which challenges 
admiration. At a meeting legally warned and held Decem- 
ber 30, 1777, it was voted to supply the soldiers' wives and 
the soldiers' widows with the necessaries of life. 

It may be interesting to note some of the prices prevail- 
ing at that time, such as would affect our pioneer women. 

Yarn stockings, a pair xos. 

Spinning women, per waek 6s. 

Beef, a pound 7d. 

Good dinner at tavern 2s. 

Metheglin, per gallon 7s 

Shad, apiece 6d. 

Yard wide check flannel 8s. 

Yard wide white flannel 5s. 

Yard wide tow and linen 6s. 

Eggs, per dozen 8d. 



i6 

Justice and gratitude demand a tribute to the praise- 
worthy spirit of the wives and daughters of Wyoming. 
While their husbands and fathers were on public duty, the 
women cheerfully assumed a large portion of such labor as 
they could do. They planted, made hay and husked corn. 
Besides this they leached their ashes for making saltpetre 
with which to produce gun powder for the public defense. 
For be it remembered that the companies enlisted in Wyo- 
ming had to furnish their own arms and ammunition. Mr. 
Hollenback had brought a large mortar to the settlement and 
•in this saltpetre, charcoal and sulphur were pounded up 
together so as to make powder. This description of the 
making of powder was given Mr. Miner by Mrs. Bethia 
Jenkins, an eye witness. 

As the season advanced, the women and children were 
put in great peril by the threatened invasion of British and 
Indians from Niagara, and the officers and men in Wash- 
ington's army pleaded to be allowed leave of absence that 
.they might hasten to the defense of their families. On the 
ground that the public safety required their presence at the 
front the permission was not granted. As Miner says : 
"History affords no parallel of the pertinacious detention of 
men under such circumstances." Wives wrote to their hus- 
bands, begging them to come home and many responded to 
the piteous call, though unable to obtain permission to do so. 
Who can blame them for placing the pleadings of wife and 
children above the cruel order of their superiors to remain 
at the front. Their fears were only too well founded, the 
threatened invasion came and some of the brave patriots who 
hastened home, fell in the fore front of the battle of that 
memorable year. Congress at last recognized the peril and 
ordered troops to Wyoming, but it was too late. 

MASSACRE OF WYOMING. 

Meanwhile as news of the invasion came, all was ex- 
citement in the Wyoming settlement and our pioneer 
mothers clasped their children in their arms and sought 
refuge in the stockades, trembling with dreadful apprehen- 



17 

sion. "Care sat on every brow and fear on many a heart too 
firm to allow a breath of apprehension to escape from the 
lips. The fields were waving with an abundant harvest, but 
the people were like a covey of patridges, cowering beneath a 
flock of blood scenting vultures, that soared above, ready 
to pounce on their prey ; or like a flock of sheep huddled to- 
gether in their pen, while the prowling wolves, already sent 
their impatient howl across the fields, eager for their vic- 
tims." 

It is not necessary to recount the already oft told story 
of the battle, other than to attempt to arrange the scanty 
material which is to be had concerning the part which the 
women took. It is related that after the enemy had invaded 
the valley, Daniel Ingersoll, who was at Wintermoot stock- 
ade, made preparations for resistance. His wife was cast 
in as heroic mold as himself and she seized the only weapon 
available, a pitchfork, to assist her husband. The Winter- 
moots at this juncture, suspected heretofore of sympathy 
with the British cause, now threw off their mask. Ingersoll 
was told that the British Butler would be a welcome visitor 
at the Wintermoot stockade, and releasing the wife, the hus- 
band was made a prisoner. 

Forty Fort being the largest stockade in the valley, the 
women and children were there assembled. There they re- 
mained while the battle was in progress. As the brave 
defenders of the settlement marched out to the unequal 
conflict, their chief anxiety was for their wives and children. 

"Men," said Col. Zebulon Butler, after he had formed 
the line of battle, "yonder is the enemy. The fate of the 
Hardings tells us what we have to expect if defeated. We 
come out to fight, not only for liberty, but for life itself, and 
what is dearer, to preserve our homes from conflagration, 
our women and children from the tomahawk. Every man 
to his duty." 

Of the four hundred Connecticut men in the fight, less 
than one hundred came out alive. The British commander 
officially reported the taking of two hundred and twenty- 



i8 

seven scalps, and some of the fugitives what had taken to the 
river were shot and their scalps not obtained. 

At Forty Fort the bank of the Susquehanna was lined 
with trembling wives and mothers awaiting the issue. How 
their hearts must have been wrung with anguish as the dis- 
tant firing subsided and they learned of the defeat from the 
rapidly increasing number of fugitives. No sooner had the 
'tidings of the slaughter become known than the inhabitants 
of the settlement prepared for immediate flight. Such as 
were not ready to join the first fugitives sought refuge at 
the stockades, principally Forty Fort, where the women and 
children were guarded by Col. Denison's few soldiers. 
Many fled without waiting to prepare food, consequently 
great suffering ensued. The several paths to the eastward 
were crowded with terror stricken fugitives. There were 
four avenues of escape open to them : 

i. The Warrior's Path, which left the lower part of the 
valley and crossing the mountain reached the settlements by 
the way of the Lehigh River. A party of one hundred 
women and children taking this route had but a single man 
to lead the way and otherwise protect them. 

2. The route over the Wilkes-Barre Mountain and 
through the "Shades of Death," to the Delaware River, 
■afterwards the Wilkes-Barre and Easton turnpike. Most 
of the fugitives took this route. This was one of the paths 
by which the settlers had come to the valley, and which was 
opened as a military road by Sullivan's army in the year 
following the battle. 

3. To the Delaware by way of Cobb's Gap at Lack- 
awaxen passing where Scranton now stands. 

4. Perhaps a thousand persons went by boats or rafts 
or on land down the Susquehanna. A letter written to the 
Executive Council of Pennsylvania by William Maclay, nine 
days after the battle, contained these words : "At Sunbury 
I saw such scenes of distress as I never saw before. The 
river and roads leading down it were crowded with men, 
women and children fleeing for their lives." 



19 

The number of men, women and children who fled from 
Wyoming was not far from three thousand. "The terrible 
odds of the conflict," says Wilcox, "while not positively 
known, had been feared by all. And while husbands and 
fathers and sons made preparations for the battle, mothers 
and children anticipated the worst and prepared for flight." 

Miner thus graphically recounts the start : "A few 
who had escaped came rushing into Wilkes-Barre fort, 
where trembling with anxiety the women and children were 
gathered awaiting the dread issue. The appalling news of 
the disaster proclaim their utter destitution. They fly to 
the mountains, evening is approaching, the victorious hell- 
hounds are opening on their track. They look back on the 
valley — all around the flames are kindling; they cast their 
eyes on the range of the battlefield ; numerous fires speak 
their own horrid purpose. They loiter ! The exulting yell 
of the savages strikes the ear ! A shriek of agonizing woe ! 
Who is the sufferer? Is it the husband of one who is gaz- 
ing? The father of her children? Their flight was a scene 
of widespread and harrowing sorrow. Their dispersion 
being an hour of the wildest terror, the people were scattered 
singly, in pairs, in larger groups, as chance separated them 
or threw them together in that sad hour of distress. Yet 
the mind pictures to itself a single group, flying from the 
valley to the mountains on the east and climbing the steep 
ascent, hurrying onward, filled with terror, despair and 
sorrow. The affrighted mother whose husband had fallen — 
an infant on her bosom, a child by the hand, an aged parent 
slowly climbing the rugged steep behind ; in the rustle of 
every leaf they hear the approaching savage, a dark and 
dreary wilderness is before them, their beloved valley all in 
flames behind them, their dwellings and harvests all swept 
away in this flood of ruin, the star of hope quenched in this 
blood shower of savage vengeance." 

The widow Abbott and her nine children fled down the 
river to Catawissa and then taking to the mountains made 
their way, nearly three hundred miles, to their former home 
in Windham County, Conn. 



20 

More than twenty mothers were called on to lose two or 
more loved ones in the battle. 

Some of these terror stricken women gave birth to 
children in their flight through the wilderness. 

A Mrs. Truesdale was one of these. She and her babe 
were placed on a horse in a rude sling and compelled by 
force of circumstances to follow the flying throng. Mrs 
Jabcz Fish and her children hastened on, supposing her hus- 
band to have been killed. Overcome with fatigue and want 
her infant died. There was no way to dig a grave, and to 
leave it to be devoured by wolves seemed worse than death, 
\so she took the dead babe in her arms and carried it twenty 
miles, when she came to a German settlement. Though poor 
they gave her food, decently buried the child and bade her 
welcome till she should be rested. 

Mrs. Ebenezer Marcy was taken in labor in the wilder- 
ness and dragged herself along on foot until overtaken by a 
neighbor with a horse. 

Mrs. Rogers, an aged woman from Plymouth, flying 
with her family, died in the mountains and was given burial 
there. 

Mrs. Courtright related that she, a young girl, flying 
with her father's family, saw sitting by the roadside a widow 
who had learned of the death of her husband. Six children 
were on the ground near her. They were without food until 
she was seen by Matthias Hollenback, who had loaded his 
horse with bread at the settlement and was hastening toward 
Wyoming on one of the paths that the fugitives would be apt 
to take. 

Among those who sought safety in flight was Mrs. 
Anderson Dana and her daughter, Mrs. Stephen Whiton, a 
bride of but a few days, who did not learn of the deaths of 
their husbands until they had arrived at Bullock's, where 
now stands the road-house known as Searfoss's, or Seven- 
Mile Jake's. It was there that many heard the dreadful de- 
tails of the day's disaster, and learned for the first time as 
to who had fallen in the bloody battle. Mrs. Dana, not only 
had provided food for her flying family, but she carried with 



21 

her many of her husband's valuable papers, he being en- 
gaged in the public business. 

Among the fugitives was the family of Elisha Black- 
man. A daughter of the latter had lost her husband, Darius 
Spofford, to whom she had but recently been married. 
Spofford, mortally wounded, fell into the arms of his brother, 
Phineas. "Brother," he said, "I am mortally hurt. Take 
care of Lavina." 

Picture if you can the dreadful anguish that wrung the 
heart of Mrs. Jonathan Weeks. Seven members of her 
household perished in the fight. Her sons, Philip, John, 
Bartholomew, Silas Benedict, husband of her grand-daugh- 
ter, two relatives named Jabez Beers and Josiah Carman, 
and Robert Bates, a boarder, that night all lay dead on the 
field of battle. Mr. and Mrs. Weeks were allowed by the 
Indians to depart, but all their buildings were burned. 

At Jenkins Fort the prisoners were searched and all val- 
uables taken from them. Mrs. Richart says that Elizabeth, 
wife of John Gardner, had some silver spoons in her pocket. 
During the search she adroitly slipped them into the waist- 
band of one of the men who had been searched. They are 
still kept as precious heirlooms by her descendants, the 
Polen family of Pittston. 

We must not forget Mrs. Obadiah Gore, who had five 
sons and two sons-in-law in the battle. Her husband, too 
old to bear arms, was in the fort. At night five of the seven 
lay dead on the fatal field. Three of her sons were slain 
and two of her daughters were widows. One of the latter 
had an infant born soon after she reached Connecticut. 

Mrs. Elihu Williams lost two sons in the battle and 
when a few weeks later her husband ventured back from 
Connecticut in the hope of saving a part of his harvest, he 
was killed by Indians. The widow was left with five chil- 
dren. 

Mrs. John Abbott was similarly widowed at the same 
time by her husband falling by the side of Elihu Williams, a 
short distance above Mill Creek. She and her nine little 



2i 

chiHren subsequently returned and occupied the farm where 
her husband fell. 

Mention should be made of Sarah, daughter of Dr. 
William Hooker Smith. She became the wife of James 
Sutton and it was to her vivid recollection of events that 
Miner was so much indebted for materials for his history of 
Wyoming. She was in the fort at the time of the battle. 
Her sister Susannah married Dr. Lemuel Gustin, who, like 
Dr. Smith, was one of the earliest physicians in the settle- 
ment, and she died a few days previous to the battle. You 
can see her epitaph in Forty Fort Cemetery. 

Twelve women and children were accompanied through 
the wilderness by William Searle, whose wife and nine 
children comprised most of the party. They had been de- 
tained after the capitulation on the fourth until the seventh, 
and then given liberty to leave the settlement. They were 
a week getting to the Delaware, a distance of about sixty 
miles, and eighteen days passed before they reached their 
former homes in Stonington, Conn. 

It is related that Mrs. Stephen Harding, whose two 
sons had been killed by the approaching savage horde the 
day before the battle, with her own hands prepared her dead 
sons for burial. The interment was witnessed by the British 
and Indians. 

What a honey-moon was that of Bethia Harris, wife 
of Colonel Jenkins, whom she had married ten days 
before the massacre. She was left in Jenkins Fort when 
her husband hastened away to join the brave defenders at 
Forty Fort. Like all the other women the Indians robbed 
her of all her garments except chemise and petticoat. Under 
a flag of truce she went over the battle-field the day after the 
battle and found the dead body of her cousin Jonathan Otis, 
and also the husband of her cousin, Mercy Otis. The latter 
and her six children were among the fugitives to Connecti- 
cut. Mrs. Bethia Jenkins was a true patriot. She assisted 
the cause of liberty by molding bullets and helping to make 
powder for the use of the soldiers. 



23 

A story is told by Mrs. Richart which is too marvelous 
for ordinary belief. It is to the effect that Captain Stephen 
Gardner's wife had a vision in which their daughter in 
Connecticut, who had married just as they left for Wyoming, 
appeared to her with a babe in her arms. She said she her- 
self was dead and she desired the baby to be given to the 
grandmother. As a sign of the reality of the vision she 
touched the wrist of the grandmother and left a mark there- 
on which rould never be effaced. The grandmother went 
to Connecticut and found that every thing had happened as 
told in the vision. The child was gently reared by its pious 
grandmother and became the wife of a Methodist clergy- 
man. Mrs. Richart informs us that this story of the super- 
natural is universally believed among all the numerous fami- 
lies descending from this godly grandmother. 

After the surrender the Indians began to plunder, and 
the British colonel, John Butler, was unable to restrain them. 
A young woman at this juncture helped to save what little 
remained of the public funds. Growing more insolent, the 
savages seized Col. Denison's hat and then demanded his 
frock. In the pocket were what remained of the military 
funds of the settlement. Obliged to give it up under threat 
of being tomahawked, he slipped it over his head in such a 
way as to give a young woman of his family, who was 
present, an opportunity of adroitly taking out the purse and 
saving it from the insolent savage. 

It was deemed best for Col. Zebulon Butler and the few 
surviving Revolutionary soldiers to hastily retire from the 
valley. The soldiers, who numbered only fourteen, with- 
drew down the river, while Col. Zebulon Butler took his wife 
on horseback behind him, and they made their escape across 
the mountains to the Lehigh by way of the Conyngham 
Valley. This was the wife of his second marriage, Lydia, 
daughter of Rev. Jacob Johnson. Not all the settlers suc- 
ceeded in getting away at once and it is recorded that one 
hundred and eighty women and children with thirteen men, 
having been detained by the Indians and plundered, were 
sent off in one company a few days after the battle, suffer- 



24 

ing for shoes, clothing and food. In the meantime the In- 
dians desolated the valley with the torch. 

A farewell that wrung a woman's heart was that be- 
•tween John Gardner and his wife. He was to be carried 
into captivity and his wife and children were permitted to 
take leave of him. He was then led away, the Indians com- 
pelling him to carry a heavy load of plunder, which after- 
wards proved too great for his strength. As if to punish 
him for his bodily weakness, and perhaps afraid that he 
would be a hindrance, he was turned over to the squaws, who 
tortured him to death with fire. This is vouched for by a 
fellow-captive, Daniel Carr. 

As the savages withdrew from the valley, they left a 
trail of fire and blood. At Capouse, now Scranton, Mr. 
Hickman, his wife and child were slain. 

Six miles up the Lackawanna lived two families, Leach 
and St. John. The men were killed. One of them was 
carrying a child, which, with strange inconsistency, the In- 
dian took up and handed to the mother, all covered with the 
father's blood. Scalping the men the Indians departed, leav- 
ing the agonized widows to make their way through the 
wilderness as best they could. 

It was autumn before the dead could be buried. In- 
dians continued to sweep down from the mountains and 
murder individual settlers, who had made so bold as to 
return in the hope of saving some of the crops. Among the 
atrocities was the butchery of the Utley family near Nesco- 
peck, Nov. 19. Not only were the three men killed, but the 
savages murdered and scalped the aged mother. 

The capture of Frances Slocum, the lost sister of Wyo- 
ming, properly belongs to this paper, but as it is such a 
familiar story, I will not go into details. Suffice it to say 
that three Indians, Nov. 2, 1778, came stealthily into the valley 
and approached the house occupied by the family of Jonathan 
Slocum, the site now being occupied by Lee's planing mill, 
corner of North and Canal streets. Having killed a young 
man of the household, named Nathan Kingsley, the Indians 
carried off little Frances, then a child of five years, whom 



i5 

the mother was never to see again, and who was not to be 
found by her family until she was old and wrinkled, and so 
completely transformed into an Indian that she could not be 
persuaded to return to her brothers in civilization. In a 
little more than a month Mrs. Slocum lost her beloved child, 
her doorway had been drenched in blood by the murder of an 
inmate of the family, Nathan Kingsley, Jr., two others of 
the household had been taken away prisoners, and now her 
cup of bitterness was not only filled but made to overflow by 
the cruel killing of her father and father-in-law, (Isaac 
Tripp). Verily, says Miner, the annals of Indian atrocities 
written in blood, record few instances of desolation and woe 
equal to this. 

Mrs. Thaddeus Williams, a Connecticut woman, whose 
family lived near the fort, had a narrow escape. Indians 
attacked the house and wounded her sick husband, but her 
sons made a gallant defense and repelled the savages. 

With reference to the presence of Sullivan's army the 
following summer, there is little mention of women. The 
diaries of Sullivan's officers record that on July 13, 1779, tne 
encampment was visited by Col. Butler, Capt. Spalding and 
several ladies. When Sullivan's army passed through Wyo- 
ming several widows applied to the commander for bread. 

One September day (1779), when Sullivan's army was 
up in the Genesee region crushing the Six Nations, there 
came into his camp a white woman who had been captured 
by the Indians at Wyoming the previous year. She carried 
her babe with her. Her name has not come down to us. 
It was near there and at that time that Luke Swetland, an- 
other Wyoming captive, escaped from the Indians and made 
his way to Sullivan's camp. 

Mrs. Mehitable Bidlack, who had lost a son, Capt. James 
Bidlack, in the Wyoming battle, applied to the war office to 
release from service her son Benjamin, then in the army, he 
being needed at home for her protection and support. The 
petition was refused on the ground that the public service 
required every available man. 



26 

In 1780 the Indians were again making incursions into 
Wyoming, bent on murder and pillage. Among the captives 
was Abram Tike, the famous Indian killer, who was taken 
while he and his wife were in the woods making sugar. 
Pike was carried off, but his wife and child were allowed to 
go to the settlements. It was her husband and Moses Van 
Campen who rose on their captors one night, killed several 
and made their escape. 

One of the most distressing of our Wyoming tragedies 
is that in which the wife of Lieut. Rosewell Franklin of 
Hanover Township figures as a central victim. It was in 
the spring of 1782. The Indians, who several months before 
had carried two of her sons into captivity, again made a raid 
on Hanover Township and carried off Mrs. Franklin and her 
four remaining children, first burning the house to ashes. 
The marauding Indians were pursued as quickly as a party 
could be formed and they were overtaken about sixty miles 
up the river. In the encounter which ensued the Indians 
shot Mrs. Franklin to death and made off with the baby, the 
three other children escaping to their rescuers Mrs. Frank- 
lin was buried in the woods and the baby was never heard of 
after. 



In October, 1780, the settlement witnessed an event that 
caused great joy and festivity. It was the marriage of 
Naomi Sill (sister of Mrs. Col. Denison), to Capt. John Paul 
Schott, who was stationed at Wyoming with his rifle corps. 
In accordance with the custom, the bans had previously been 
published. A few months later, January, 1781, the bans 
were again published, this time for Joseph Kinney and 
Sarah Spalding. The bride was the daughter of 
Simon Spalding, captain of the Connecticut Independent 
Company. It may be said of the groom that he was wont to 
controvert the idea that the sun was a ball of fire, whose heat 
could be radiated to give warmth to the distant planets. It 
is worthy of note that his view has its defenders to-day. 

It is interesting to note that in the assessment for 1781 
only two owners of watches are returned, and one of these is 



27 

a woman, Sarah Durkee. The other fortunate possessor of 
a time-piece was Capt. John Franklin. Each watch was 
valued at one and a half pounds. 

The summer of 1781 was made memorable by an out- 
break of typhus fever, which, added to the commonly preva- 
lent malarial fevers, made many a housewife's heart ache. 
Among the pioneer women who fell victims to the dreaded 
typhus was Lydia, the second wife of Col. Zebulon Butler. 

June 9, 1 78 1, a party of twelve Indians made an attack 
on a blockhouse at Buttonwood in Hanover Township, three 
miles below the Wilkes-Barre Fort. In the gallant defense 
the women aided the men with alacrity and spirit. 

That domestic life was even in those early days not 
always blissful is shown by the fact that one pioneer woman 
in 1 78 1 obtained a divorce from her husband. 

Women had to insist on their rights. One Susannah 
Reynolds (whose husband Christopher, is said by Miner, 
to have been killed in the battle of 1778) had an action 
brought against her by Jabez Sill to recover a property upon 
which it was alleged she was a trespasser, but the court, 
whether from considerations of justice or gallantry we do 
not know, decided that the property was hers. 

In July, 1781, Mrs. George Larned was carried into 
captivity from her home, on what was afterwards the Easton 
turnpike, leading from Wilkes-Barre to the Delaware. The 
agonized woman had seen the savages kill and scalp her hus- 
band, George Larned and his father, and her own baby, an 
infant of four months, had been torn from her arms and 
killed before her very eyes. 



Throughout the entire Revolutionary war Indians de- 
.astated Wyoming Valley with fire and hatchet, but the close 
of that great struggle witnessed no cessation of suffering for 
the Connecticut settlers. The Proprietary Government, 
which no longer had to fight a foreign enemy, now turned 
with ferocity upon the Connecticut settlers, who were already 
impoverished by war. But instead of pitying them in their 



28 

distress, the entire power of Pennsylvania was turned against 
them after the prolonged strife was supposed to be ended by 
the Decree of Trenton in December, 1783. Petition to the 
General Assembly of Pennsylvania was in vain. "Our 
houses are desolate," they said, many mothers are childless, 
widows and orphans are multiplied, our habitations are 
destroyed and many families are reduced to beggary." The 
Assembly replied by sending more troops to oppress their 
already sadly harrassed people. They were told they must 
give up their lands, though a concession was made that the 
widows of those who had been killed by the savages might 
retain possession for two years, at the end of which time they 
must vacate. The women of Wyoming were even subjected 
to the hardship of having the soldiers billeted upon them. 
Mrs. Col. Zebulon Butler (his third wife, Phoebe Haight, 
whom he married in Connecticut a year before,) was com- 
pelled to board twenty of the troops. But the climax of the 
Pennamite cruelty was reached in May, 1784, when the sol- 
diery obliterated the Connecticut boundaries by destroying 
the fences and at the point of the bayonet dispossessed all 
the Connecticut claimants. "Unable to make any resistance 
the people implored for leave to remove either up or down 
the river in boats, as, with their wives and children, it would 
be impossible to travel on the bad roads of that day. Their 
request was refused and they were compelled to go across to 
the Delaware through sixty miles of wilderness. About five 
hundred men, women and children thus made their way to 
Connecticut, mostly on foot, the road being impassable for 
wagons. Mothers, carrying their infants, literally waded 
streams, the water reaching to their armpits. Old men hob- 
bled along on canes and crutches. Little children, tired with 
Traveling, crying to their mothers for bread, which they 
could not give them, sunk from exhaustion into slumber, 
while the mothers could only shed tears of sorrow and com- 
passion, till in sleep they forgot their griefs and cares. One 
child died and the mother buried it beneath a log." Seven 
long days and nights were occupied in making the sixty 
miles to the Delaware. When reached this was less than 
half way to the nearest border of Connecticut. 



*9 

Years ago, when the old burying ground on Market 
street was abandoned, there was found what is the oldest 
grave stone of which we have any record. It was a rude 
mountain stone and marked the grave of a pioneer woman of 
Wyoming. It was deposited in the Historical Society, but 
cannot now be found. Fortunately I took a copy of it and 
this early epitaph read as follows: 



HERE LISE 
THE BODDEY OF 

ELIZABETH 

PARKS SHE 
DIED MAY THE 

7th A. D., 1776 
AGED 24. 



It would be interesting to know who she was. 

There was a William Park, a brother-in-law of Capt. 
Obadiah Gore, who came to Wyoming with the Connecticut 
settlers in 1769. The family was from Plainfield. Some 
matter concerning the Park family is found in the Harvey 
Book, page 307. 

DOMESTIC LIFE. 

The prevailing characteristics of the pioneer women of 
Wyoming were industry and frugality. Labor was honor- 
able in all and there were few, if any, artificial distinctions. 
Each woman was as good as her neighbor, provided she 
behaved as well. Nearly all the people were farmers and in 
the earlier days each housewife had to depend largely on 
herself for articles necessary to family use. The men raised 
flax and wool and the women dressed it, spun it and wove it. 
Each family became a little manuficturing center for mak- 
ing materials suitable for clothing and we may imagine how 
the women vied with one another in spinning, weaving, dye- 
ing and in making the materials into clothing, linen, bedding 
and other necessary articles. Nearly every family had its 
patch of flax and in the fall came the pulling, rotting break- 



3o 

ing, swingling and combing. Without this homemade linen 
they could not have sheets, or pillowslips, or towels, or hand- 
kerchiefs, or shirts or dresses. Many women took in flax 
to spin and the buzzing of the linen-wheel was music in the 
humble kitchen. Neighbors often carried their linen-wheels 
and flax when they went visiting. When the cloth was 
woven it was bucked and belted with a wooden beetle on a 
smooth flat stone, then it was washed and spread out on the 
grass or bushes to bleach. Sometimes young women made 
"all tow," "tow and linen," or "all linen stuff," to barter for 
their wedding outfits. 

The women carded wool with hand cards and in order 
to lighten their burden and furnish social diversion resort 
was had to "carding bees," or "wool breakings." It was 
woven in hand looms. The common color was "sheep's 
grey," the wool of a black sheep and that of a white one 
being carded, spun and woven together. This was used 
mostly for men's wear. Out of the finer wool could be 
made gowns and undergarments for the women and children. 
The women in winter wore a heavy woolen cloth called baize, 
dyed with green or red. Sometimes they made heavy waled 
cloth and dyed it with bark at home. Later indigo came as 
a great convenience and the blue frock was the best and 
handiest of garments. It was whole in front, put on over 
the head, came below the knees and was gathered about the 
waist with a belt. So generally was it worn that it was said 
that when the minister prayed at town meeting a square 
acre of blue frocking rose up before him. If the housewife 
was not skilled in making garments she could get help from 
the itinerant tailor, who was an adept at cutting and fitting. 
There were also itinerant cobblers, who carried their kits 
about the country making or repairing shoes. The pioneer 
mother made for her husband and sons caps of the pelts of 
rabbits, woodchucks or other animals and lappets were sewed 
on to protect the ears. Occasionally a hat was made of 
home-made felt. 

Neatness was the characteristic of the early Wyoming 
home. The floors, after they were so far advanced as to 



3* 

get smooth floors, were scoured white and kept sanded. The 
shelves gleamed with mugs, hasins and platters, all of shin- 
ing pewter scoured with rushes. Their home-made towels, 
sheets and pillow cases were of spotless purity. In the 
yawning fire place were crane and andirons and pothooks. 

Of paint there was none. Earthenware had to be 
brought from England and was rare. To meet this want 
home-made wooden ware was largely in use, turned with 
lathes. 

The walls, mostly of logs, were unadorned with pic- 
tures. In their stead the powder-horn and leather shot-bag 
hung on their pegs, and the shot gun rested in the forked 
branches of a deer's horns, fastened up with wooden pins. 
Overhead supported by iron hooks in the beams were poles 
on which were hung hats, stockings, mittens, cloth and 
varn. In the autumn they were festooned with strings of 
quartered apples or cubes of pumpkin. 

The water had to be brought from well or spring. Fires 
were not easily kindled or kept. There were no friction 
matches. Each night before retiring some live hardwood 
coals must be buried in the ashes. Should there be no live 
embers in the morning, they had to be obtained from some 
neighbor, often at a considerable distance. With a live coal 
and some dry kindlings and bellows it was an easy matter to 
quickly obtain a roaring fire. If the live coal was not 
obtainable recourse must be had to the flint and steel tinder 
box, reinforced perhaps by a few shavings previously dipped 
in melted brimstone. How they managed in midwinter, 
with only a single open fire, to keep from freezing will ever 
remain a mystery. What little light was needed, when peo- 
ple went to bed so early, was obtained from tallow dips, 
though many a family had not even these and must depend 
on the light from the hearth. Many a studious youth has 
gotten his inspiration from the generous blaze of the open 
fire. It is said of these open fire places that they carried the 
greater part of the heat up the chimney and when the wind 
was wrong sent half the smoke into the room. 



32 

Clocks and watches were scarce. Some people had sun 
dials and others built their houses square with the sun that 
they might always be certain of the noon hour. 

Each family had to depend on itself for tallow, beeswax, 
cider and soft soap and each was expected to take turn in 
entertaining the school master when he went boarding round. 

The women and girls could drive oxen, hold plow, plant 
potatoes, hoe corn and cut kindling wood as well as the men 
when occasion required. 

At first the facilities for cooking were very primitive, 
and cooking had to be done at the open fire places, for as yet 
there were no stoves. From an iron crane in, the fire place 
hung pots and kettles for boiling. Frying was done in a pan 
over a bed of hot coals raked out upon the hearth. Bread 
was often baked in a kettle. 

Venison, bear, woodchuck, wild turkey or domestic 
meat was roasted in front of the open fire, suspended from a 
stout cord attached to the mantel piece, a dripping pan placed 
below to catch the savory juices. The housewife or one of 
her children revolved the meat, so as to cook it evenly all 
around. Potatoes were roasted in the hot ashes. In the old 
brightly scoured tin kitchen johnny-cake was baked. Food 
was plain. Salt pork and potatoes were the staples. Shad 
was abundant. The housewife was often hard pushed to 
furnish a variety. Bean porridge was in great favor and it 
is recorded somewhere that when the goodman was going 
away in the winter to work with his team, the wife would 
make a bean porridge, freeze it, with a string, so he could 
hang it on one of the sled stakes, and when he was hungry 
he would break off a piece and eat it. Bread and milk or 
mush and milk were much used. In the earlier days there 
were few tablecloths, tumblers, cups or saucers and not many 
knives or forks. 

Recreation was almost unknown and of amusements 
there were very few. Occasionally the young people had 
spelling matches, sugar boilings, husking frolics or apple 
cuts, rarely a dance, and the more staid of the matrons had 
tea drinking and quilting parties. 



33 

There was little or no money in circulation. Debts were 
paid in labor or farm produce and at long intervals accounts 
were rendered and the balance carried forward on the book 
until another reckoning was had. 

In those days the pioneer mother usually had a large 
family and nearly always she was doctor, nurse, cook and 
teacher. 

SOME REFLECTIONS. 

It has not been convenient to weave into a connected 
whole the material which I have presented, and it is there- 
fore a mere bundle of fragmentary jottings, not possessing 
even the merit of chronological order. It has been limited 
as far as could be, to the first settlement and to Wyoming's 
great tragedy of 1778, with special reference to the part 
which women played, though the general facts have been 
made familiar by historians and poets to all the world. It is 
by no means a complete recital of woman's work, in fact I 
have been embarrassed with a wealth of interesting materials 
from which to choose and found the difficulty to be in the 
task of condensation. 

While we rehearse some of the privations of those stir- 
ring times we need not be ashamed of the fact that our recital 
deals largely with the annals of the poor. Our ancestors 
came to the Susquehanna with but little of this world's goods 
and they had to wrest a living from the soil and against the 
heavy odds of a hostile Proprietary Government, and an im- 
placable savage foe. The stories of poverty and privations 
and the sorrows and sufferings which have come down to 
us, have doubtless not been exaggerated. 

The vast deposits of coal which in our time have made 
this valley a busy hive of industry and brought millions of 
dollars of wealth and made us all a highly favored people 
were then unsuspected. Here in the wilderness of Penn- 
sylvania our fathers planted a little republic that made and 
executed its own laws, a little republic whose allegiance to 
Connecticut brought on a civil strife which lasted nearly a 
third of a century and wet these fair plains many times with 



34 

the blood of patriots who were willing to die if need be for 
that home to which in the sight of God they felt they had a 
right to bring their wives and little ones. Though our 
present county of Luzerne is only a small portion of what 
was originally styled Wyoming, it yet has a population larger 
jthan that of either Delaware, Idaho, Montana, Nevada or 
Wyoming. Although our ancestors were poor, it does not 
follow that they were ignorant. On the contrary they were 
keen, intelligent, hardheaded men, who made the most of 
such advantages as they had. Their little libraries were well 
read, and as early as 1777 they established post routes be- 
tween Wyoming and Connecticut for the carrying of letters 
and newspapers, one trip every two weeks, the same being 
maintained by private subscription. Stewart Pearce relates 
that during the Pennamite war, the wife of Lieutenant John 
Jameson left Wyoming for Easton, where her father, Major 
Prince Alden, and upwards of twenty other Connecticut set- 
tlers were held as prisoners. As there was no mail route, 
she secreted in her hair-dressing letters for the prisoners, 
and though intercepted on the way by Pennamite soldiers 
and examined, her precious consignment of letters escaped 
detection. 

For years the pioneer women of Wyoming lived in con- 
stant fear of attacks from marauding bands of Indians. 
When their husbands went to the fields to work, carrying 
their guns with them, these mothers spent the hours in fear 
lest their protectors should be slain by Indians in ambush. 
We have seen how often this occurred and how the pioneer 
mother in our fair valley was never free from the haunting 
fear that her children might wander for a moment from her 
sight and fall a prey to savage cruelty. 

Living as we do. surrounded by every comfort, we can- 
not realize the isolation and the self-dependence of our 
pioneer mothers. They had made the toilsome journey from 
Connecticut, through the forest to this promised land, over 
roads that were mere bridle paths and which had no bridges 
to span the streams. Almost no stores, few vehicles and 
only rare communication with the mother colony. She must 



35 

provide her own remedies for times of sickness, supply her 
husband and children with garments of her own spinning 
and making, bake corn bread from meal of her own pound- 
ing and attend to a multitude of other domestic duties, and 
yet so little with which to do it all as to make us wonder 
how she ever did so much. 

Words cannot adequately picture the privations of the 
pioneer women of Wyoming, and we do well to venerate 
their memories. It is to them we owe a debt of gratitude 
for having helped win from the wilderness such a heritage 
for us as that which we now possess. They died that we 
might live and we can best glorify their memory by emulat- 
ing their virtues. 



1901 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



014 314 233 4 i 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



014 314 233 4 



